


Ink Stamped Image

by ApocalypseSugar



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseSugar/pseuds/ApocalypseSugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ups, downs, and pressures of being an Innkeeper’s daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ink Stamped Image: The Beginning

The soft pitter pater of bare feet rang down the hallway outside the rooms on the second floor. It was the only sound in the empty space as the sun reached the middle of the sky. They belonged to the Innkeeper's daughter, a small kimono clad girl no more than the age of four. She spent her time running around the inn doing whatever she pleased with her time. The Inn was her playground.

It became quiet when she stopped at the last door. She stood still for a moment, waiting for her mother to acknowledge her. When she didn't call out to her, she stomped her feet a few times in an attempt to gain attention.

"Yuki-chan, dear," Her mother's voice said from inside, "I'm a little busy. Can it wait?"

The girl reached her hand out and pulled open the sliding door. "But Mommy, I wanna play with you! You're always working." Her feet hammering the floor as she stepped in, leaving the door wide open behind her.

A sigh came from the older woman as the child made her way around the backside of the desk. But nonetheless, she picked her daughter up and let her sit on her lap. "If you want to spend time with Mommy, you have to be good, okay?"

Yukiko nodded. A smile shined on her face now that she had at least some of her mother's attention. Her curious eyes watched as one of the arms on either side of her took a wooden block and pressed it onto a black compact before lowering it down onto a piece of paper. The hands continued to do the same integrate motion over and over again. The image the block left behind was one of four scripted kanji, two of which she recognized from different places around the inn: big lettered signs, printed and inked on stationary, and stitched into uniforms and futon blankets.

"What are you doing? How is this working? It looks like you're just doing art! How is this working?" She asked, cranking her neck upwards towards her mother, eager for her to answer her. She continued to rattle off thoughts and questions as they came to her.

"This is a stamp," she interrupted, "I have to put my name on all these papers so our guests know I've reviewed their charges, and that I value serving them as the Inn's manager. The papers are receipts that we slip under the doors the morning of check out." She explains, "This stamp adds a personal touch that I want every guest to feel they have when they stay here." She sets the wooden stamp aside and points to the newly inked image. "It's my name written in kanji, 'Amagi Shinju.'"

The young girl scrunched her eyebrows. "But your name is Mommy. Mommy Amagi. You can't have more than one name," She said, frowning down at the paper.

Her mother laughed, "I have a first name of my own. Like you, Yuki-chan. You're Amagi Yukiko, much like I'm Amagi Shinju."

"I wanna try it," Yukiko exclaimed, perking up again. It was typical that she didn't dwell on one topic for very long, instead jumping to the next thing that was on her mind. It mirrored the way children usually act at that age. She reached for the wooden block and stabbed it into the ink pad before squishing it onto one of the inkless sheets. The resulting image was a large black square that bled through to the other side from excessive force.

Yukiko squinted, trying to comprehend why her's looked so much different from her mother's. "How come mine doesn't look like your's, Mommy? I want mine to be pretty too."

"It can be difficult to master," the mother grasped her daughter's hand in her own. "It has to be pressed down gently, we just want ink on the parts of the stamp that are sticking out. We also don't want too much, or it will seep through to the other side." She applied the correct amount of pressure to the stamp onto the ink pad, guiding Yukiko with her every movement. "We use the same amount of force on the paper to come up with a nice, clean image," she continued, lowering the stamp onto the next receipt in the stack. When she lifted it back up, a perfectly inked image was left on the paper.

"Wow!" Yukiko beamed, "I hope to be as good as you someday!"

Her mother smiled, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Of course you will be, I have no doubts," she reassured her, "The inn will be in good hands when you become manager."

"You think so?" She looked up at her mother.

"I know so," she giggled, giving her daughter a soft kiss on the forehead.

The two sat in silence, Yukiko staring at her mother with such admiration as she ran her hands across her cool skin, chilled from the cold winter air. She liked spending these quiet moments with her mother, feeling her slender fingers run through her long hair, the soft humming that reached it's peak below a whisper, and the kind smile that reminded her she was safe in her arms. There was nothing like spending time with her mother.

Although the door was already open a knock echoed through the small office space. Their attention snapped to the sudden noise, hindering their moment. One of the inn workers was kneeling just outside the door. The color of her kimono, Yukiko observed, indicated she was from the kitchen staff.

"What is it, Nakamura?" her mother questioned. Yukiko felt her mother's hands slip from her scalp and down to rest on her forearms. The cheerful tone in her voice broke down into a mellow and professional stature. She had seen her put up this front on many occasions, the sudden transition never fazes her.

The worker placed her hands in front of her on the floor and bowed slightly to her superior before speaking, "Abe-san checked in a large group without a reservation and they are expecting lunch. Amagi-san doesn't have the proper supplies to fix them all a meal. He is throwing a fit and threatening to have us all fired. I thought it would be best to come to you since you are the only one that can calm him down in these situations."

Yukiko heard her mother intake a sharp and loud breath and felt her breasts push against the back of her head. "I'm on it." Once the words were out of her mouth, the raven haired girl pouted as she slid off her mother's lap. She knew she shouldn't be disappointed, but she had to force herself to understand. Especially when it came to her father's rage in the kitchen.

Her eyes followed her mother's back as she made her way to the door where the employee was waiting to escort her. Once she was alone, she took a seat in her mother's gigantic office chair and began swinging her legs since they hung so far from the ground. Guests always commented on how cute and tiny she was, to which she would boldly tell them she was normal and that they were just giants! Some laughed it off and called her cute again, others took offense and said she shouldn't speak to an adult that way, then there were those her told her a lady didn't speak out of term…

The clock against the far wall ticked away the seconds, providing hushed background noise for her thoughts. But soon they were interrupted by another worker poking her head into the office. 

"Yukiko-chan," she squeaked, "your mother has sent me to retrieve you. She wishes for me to accompany you to the bath." She didn't bow, just stood there with a smile plastered across her face. Her hand beaconed her over, and Yukiko blindly came without a word.

When she shut the door behind her, she continued to hear the clock. She wondered why it was necessary for it to notify her every second with it's rhythmic ticking. Once the worker grabbed her hand, she forgot.


	2. Ink Stamped Image: The End

Her feet didn't make a sound as she glided them elegantly across the floor. It was after midnight, so the hallway was empty and silent. These feet belong to the Innkeeper's daughter, a beautiful kimono clad woman no more than sixteen years of age. She spent her time catering to guest complaints, checking on staff to make sure they're happy and doing their jobs, helping maids clean rooms, running errands outside the inn, and many other things that her body spent years trying to perfect so she could do them automatically. The Inn was her prison.

She reached her hand towards the door and slid it open with ease. This space was temporarily hers, with her mother out of commission, so she didn't need to answer to anyone.

The check-out receipts were already laid neatly on the surface of her desk. An ink pad and her personal stamp with her name protruding in scripted kanji were next to them. She took a seat in the large uncomfortable chair and began stamping her name on the appropriate line. Her hands worked like a well oiled machine, pressing firmly on the ink pad, swiftly bringing it over to the paper, lowering it in impeccable rhythm, moving the inked ones into a new stack, and starting the process all over again. Just like her mother taught her. The fluid motions of a robot, programmed to cater to any task at hand.

A clock on the far wall ticked away gently, proving to be sublime background noise to a dull chore. The process only took a matter of minutes, but sometimes it felt like hours. She loved inking her mother's name when she was a kid, but now that it was expected of her, it was a lot less fun.

Once she was done, she straighten the stack against the desk and placed it off to the side for for the accountant to retrieve later.

It wasn't two seconds later that a knock came from the office door. It slid open to reveal one of the Inn workers kneeling out in the hallway. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Amagi-san. I hope you weren't in the middle of something."

"No, I just finished," She said, standing from her desk. This was the last thing on her list, she was on her way to take a dip in the open air bath before going straight to bed. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was relax. Of course, she wasn't going to tell her employee this, she had to be an example. No one could see her relaxing until her mother was at 100% again.

The worker bowed her head. "A large group showed up without a reservation. They say they made one, but no one can find it in the system. It was requested that they have a word with you."

She let out a slow breath through her nose, staring at the woman outside her office. "Of course," she responded. "Tell them I'll be out in a moment."

"Yes, Amagi-san." With that, she closed the door. Still in the office, she could hear the employee's footsteps moving further down the hallway until they faded into nothing.

The clock ticked against the otherwise silent night. Even at a young age, so many people relied on her without getting much, or anything really, in return. It wasn't fair, she deserved to be a kid. She was suppose to have choices, to have rights to her future. It's not suppose to be set in stone; or in this case, written in ink.


End file.
